Maîtrise
by infamouschelsea
Summary: Maîtrise. An by-invitation-only cocktail bar full of secrets and mystery. When Anastasia Steele is desperate for work, she applies for a job at the newly opened bar. But what she discovers is set to turn her world upside down. Expect explicit language, sexual and adult themes. (No Ana or Christian deaths! No Cheating!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**Hello Everyone,**

**So I'm making the leap and jumping into the world of AU fanfiction. I don't really know what to say at this point, just that I hope you like this first chapter. :)**

**For those of you following my other story, The Good Will Come, I am still working on that. I haven't abandoned it. I just wanted to try something a bit different. I'm hoping to update both TGWC and this story simultaneously. However, as some of you might know my schedule is a little hectic, so I hope you don't mind delays!**

**Again, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm working more!**

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

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><p><em>Maîtrise.<em>

_Invitation only cocktail bar, the latest in the Esclava chain. Vacancies available. Experience essential._

I looked over the advertisement for the hundredth time. The edges of the page are torn from my constant fidgeting, and the ink has smudged in a few places, the remnants of it pressed into my thumbs. It's safe to say I'm nervous. Terrified, even.

I came across the advert yesterday morning, after scouring the jobs section of the previous nights' newspaper. Every morning I check the papers for any new vacancies, trying to find something I haven't already applied for. I'm desperate for work and way past the point of being fussy. I've applied for cleaning jobs, babysitting, admin… but it's been pointless. The most I've received back is a kindly worded rejection letter. When I saw this advert I jumped straight onto my computer and emailed my résumé to the name on the bottom of the page. So what if I'm an English major with a 4.0 GPA. We all have to start somewhere, right?

I graduated from Washington State University eight months ago and I haven't had a single interview. It's a tough economy for graduates. It's not about what you know these days, it's about who you know. No place wants to employ someone who spent their college days working in a hardware store. They want someone whose daddy can help increase annual turnover. Like my best friend and roommate, Kate. Her father brokered a deal with the _Seattle Times_ in order to get her an internship there. My father is dead and my step-father is ex-marine, not a businessman. When I finished college, I joined Kate in Seattle. She had a spare room and I thought I'd be able to find a job easily. I was so very wrong. Since I moved here, I've been living off Kate's wages and generosity.

My bus rolled to a halt and I looked frantically out of the window, realising this is my stop. I scrambled to my feet and rushed to the front, quickly jumping off, my feet hitting the pavement hard. I thought I heard the driver laughing at me before he drove off. I scowled after him. I really hate getting the bus but I didn't have enough money to fill up my car. My bank balance is closing in on zero and gas is a luxury I can't afford right now.

I walked slowly along the sidewalk, trying to smooth down my plain white blouse and maroon coloured skirt. I caught sight of myself in a store front window, pausing to double check that nothing is tucked into something it shouldn't be. _I look okay_, I think to myself. My hair is pulled back into a simple ponytail and I only applied a small amount of mascara to my lashes. I'm not confident with makeup. I've never been artistically inclined, as my mother so frequently says.

The short walk from the bus stop to the night club is pleasant enough, but my stomach is rolling so fast I feel like I could throw up any second. I can feel that cold, nauseous sweat spreading over me. I'm not familiar with this part of the city. It's the expensive side of Seattle, where all the rich kids hang out. I had to check the address and route online when I got the call last night to say I had an interview. Before reaching the tall, black, mirror fronted building, I counted at least seven other night clubs. None of them look like the type of places I've been to before. Admittedly, Kate had to drag me to them but still, this doesn't look like the sort of place where people are throwing up in the streets at three in the morning.

The front of the club is overwhelming, the mirrored exterior enough to disturb my nerves even further. You can't see inside at all, only the street reflected back at you. It's like there's something to hide in there… Above the door is the word Maîtrise written in deep red, the letters curled and calligraphic. I wonder what it stands for. It looks French. I did two years of Spanish in high school and failed it miserably.

"Steele?"

"Huh?" I snapped my head down from the sign, hearing my name being called out by a gruff voice. I found a tall, broad shouldered man standing in front of the now open door.

"Steele?" He repeated, a little more firmly this time. He frowned at me, folding his muscular arms across his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tightening and digging into his flesh. His hair is jet black and his eyes almost the same in colour. "Are you here for the interview?" He slowed his words down, talking to me as if I'm deaf.

"Yes, yes I am." I nodded, taking a step forward. I rocked on my heels a little. I'm wearing a pair of Kate's high-heeled pumps. I didn't have any shoes suitable for an interview. I'm a Converse kind of girl. The shoes fit me fine but they're starting to rub the skin around my heels and toes.

I pushed out my hand to him and he shook his head disapprovingly.

"I'm just here to show you in. This way." He nodded backwards, inside the club. I gulped hard, feeling my throat growing dry. He stepped back and held the door open for me. "Well, come on. I haven't got all pissing day. I've got stuff to do."

"Right, sorry." I said rapidly. I rushed forward and teetered into the building. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the interior.

Everything is black, dark wood, accented with blood red furnishings. The floor is dark parquet and shiny. The walls look like velvet, like they're not even real. It's much larger inside than I imagined, with a gothic staircase at the back leading to the floor above. The mirror theme is dominant in here too, at least one ornate fixture hanging from each wall. My face is everywhere, pale and looking timidly back at me.

The bar fills the centre of the room, like a giant circle with the middle full of bottles of all different colours and sizes. It's an intimidating sight. I can feel my heart racing in my chest.

"That way," he makes me jump, coming to stand just in front of me. He pointed to door on the right. I looked around and noticed that there are several doors spaced out around the room. "Just go straight in. Don't bother knocking. She's waiting for you."

"She?" I repeated. "So you're… you're not interviewing me?"

"Does it look like I've got time to do that? I've got to get this place ready to open." He fired grumpily at me. I clenched my jaw. "Just hurry up. You don't want to piss her off before you've even met."

He waved once more towards the door and then disappeared around the bar. I noticed piles of boxes on the bar top. He didn't look up at me again. He began tearing open the boxes, ripping apart the packaging, breaking the eerie silence with harsh, whipping sounds.

I shook off my wayward thoughts and approached the heavy, decorated door. It's carved with strange markings of things I don't recognise or understand. I didn't knock. I just pushed it open and inhaled a sudden, sharp breath.

Behind a long, mahogany table sits a slender, middle aged blonde. Her platinum coloured hair has been pristinely sleeked back into a bun, freeing her face from any obstructions. Her expression is blank, the only movement being the pursing for her thin, crimson lips. I stared at her for a second, until she glanced up at me.

"Miss Steele, I assume?" Her voice addressed me coolly, with frustration locked away in it. I nodded. "Well? Come in. Don't just linger in the doorway." She huffed and tilted her chin down to her desk, where a laptop is open in front of her.

The office is large – probably too large for just one person. The walls are a similar shade of red as outside, but adorned with several pieces of artwork. Not a mirror in sight. The painting directly behind the desk is the largest and depicts a woman leaning backwards over a table, her face squirming and twisted. She looks in pain…

"Sit." She snapped at me, looking to the lone chair opposite from her. "Now."

I stumbled forward and collapsed into it, immediately dropping my satchel bag to the floor. I made a quick apology but it was frivolous. She ignored me for a long while, tapping away on her keyboard and humming small sounds to herself.

"Erm… d-do you have a copy of my résumé?" I asked her finally, when the silence became too much for me to bear.

"Yes." She answered abruptly. She stole her eyes from her computer and looked to me. She arched her sharp brow. "Not very impressive, is it?"

"Excuse me?"

"Three and a half years employment at a hardware store?" She read off a lone piece of paper on the desk. I recognised it as my résumé. "You sold wallpaper and power tools? Did you even bother to read my advertisement, Miss Steele?" She almost growled, leaning forward against the desk. I found myself subconsciously leaning back into my chair, to get as far away from her as possible.

"I –"

"I need someone who can serve drinks and waitress, not a happy-go-lucky schoolgirl who can ring up a register for the maximum purchase of fifty dollars."

My cheeks started to burn.

"Why the hell are you wasting my time?" She lifted her chin higher, cocking her head to the side. "I explicitly asked for someone with experience. I assumed any idiot would realise that meant experience in bar work."

"I knew that's what you meant." I uttered meekly. "I just…"

"You just what?" She teased.

"I just really need this job, Mrs…" I paused. _Shit, what was her name?_ I crunch the advertisement still in my hand, now soggy from my sweaty palms. I looked down at it, trying to make out any names.

"Lincoln. Ms Lincoln." She told me. "It's a very bad sign when you can't remember the name of your potential employer, Miss Steele." She huffed.

"I'm sorry," I shook my head. "But I really need this job, Ms Lincoln…I know I don't have experience but I'm a quick learner. And I'm good with people. My previous employer will vouch for that... I will work any hours you have, for any rate of pay. Really, I don't care. I just really need the money."

I was begging her. I've never begged anyone for anything. I've never been that sort of person. But right now I am. I never thought I would be prepared to get on hands and knees, pleading for something, but I've reached that low. I'll kiss her feet if it'll get me this job.

"I need this job." I continued.

She paused and looked over me, her eyes meandering up and down my front, from my shirt to my hair. She made a clicking noise with her tongue and then looked back to her computer.

"You can show yourself out."

"What?" I gulped. "Is that it?"

"What more is there to say?" She shook her head, oblivious. "You have no experience. You're no use to me."

"But –"

"But nothing, Miss Steele. You've wasted both our times coming here."

"Then why did you invite me for an interview?" I half shouted at her.

"I thought I would humour you." She smirked, her eyes staring wickedly into mine. "I could have wavered the experience but, putting this frankly, you simply do not fit the _profile_ I am expecting of my employees."

_Profile? What's that supposed to mean?_ I glanced down at my shirt. It's crinkled in places. I didn't have time to iron it properly. I was running late this morning.

"So you can leave now." She told me again. The coldness of her tone made me feel two foot tall. I felt my stomach sink down into my core, grief spreading through my body. I couldn't move. I felt numb.

"I need this job." My voice broke in the middle. "Please?"

Her eyes remained on her computer. She didn't shake or nod her head. She just sat there, transfixed by her screen and the rhythmic tapping of her keyboard. She looked up only as the door behind me opened. She smiled to whoever was standing there.

I took that as my cue to leave.

"Goodbye, Miss Steele." She dismissed me.

I rose unevenly from the seat and picked up my bag from the floor, flinging it over my shoulder. I turned quickly towards the door, practically racing over to it. I kept my head down. I didn't want her to have the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

"Sorry –" I blurted as I bumped shoulders with the man standing in the doorway. I looked up from the floor for a moment, but my vision was blurred so much that all I could make out was a black suit. He grunted a noise but I was long gone before he had the chance to shout at me.

I ran out of the building as fast as my feet could take me. The fresh air struck my prickled skin. The tears came crawling down my face as soon as I was ten feet away from the door. I hunched forward, feeling a pain in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I've just been punched.

God, I'm useless… I can't even get a shitty bar job. Four years in college, a shit ton of debt, and what do I have to show for it? Absolutely nothing.

I stand still for what feels like an eternity, moving only when I stopped crying and managed to pull myself together. I straightened my back and pushed my hand into my pocket, reaching for some cash. I counted the small amount of coins and sighed… it's not even enough to get the bus home.

"Great…" I sniffed, wiping the back of my hand across my face. "Looks like I'm walking."

I kicked off Kate's shoes and threw them into my bag. It took almost thirty minutes to get here by bus. God knows how long it'll take to walk back.

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><p>"So how did the interview go, Annie?"<p>

My step-father's voice tickled my ear. He sounded so happy. He was overjoyed when I told him about the interview. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was only for a bar job, so I let him believe it was for one of the publishing jobs I applied for a few weeks back. I don't want to tell him how badly the interview went. He'll be crushed.

"It was okay," I lied, gnawing at my fingernails. I dug the phone into my ear and prayed that he wouldn't be able to find the deceit in my voice. Ray Steele is like a sniffer dog – he can spot bullshit from a mile off. "But I don't think I'll hear from them for a couple weeks. Look how long it took them to ask me for an interview." I forced a laugh. I sounded false, and I knew Ray had picked up on it.

"Oh." He paused. "Annie?" his voice softened, becoming whisper like.

"Yeah?" I mimicked his tone.

"You are okay for money, aren't you?" he said with concern oozing from him. "I mean, I can transfer some cash into your account if you need a little extra this month. Just enough to tide you over, yeah?"

I sunk into the couch, wishing for it swallow me whole.

Since I came home from the interview, I've hauled myself up on the couch with my comforter and the remainder of the icecream from the freezer. I showered as soon as I came in, needing to scrub the tears and disappointment off me. It was dark when I finally got back, and my legs were burning from the walk. I took the long route home, too scared to walk through the side-streets and alleys. I freaked myself out, thinking that I was being followed. I convinced myself that a car was following me. Every turn I made, it appeared behind me, at a crawling pace. It only disappeared when I turned off into my street and rushed to the front door, opening it quickly. I stepped inside and looked out, watching the black car speed off. I didn't get a look at the driver or the licence plate.

Kate text me earlier, to see how I was. She reminded me that this isn't the end of the world, that she can sub me more money, but I don't want pitying. I don't want people throwing money at me. Call me Elizabeth Bennet but I want to earn whatever cash I can. The last thing I want is to be a charity case.

"Annie? You still there?" Ray's voice broke me from my thoughts. I could envision him sitting forward in his armchair, putting his hand on his knee, his heavy brows furrowing in the middle. "Annie?"

"Yeah, still here." I said quietly. I closed my eyes. "Dad –"

"Things are real bad, aren't they?" he cut to the chase. I've kept the dire state of my finances a secret from him, making out that I had a lot left over from my last paycheck from Claytons Hardware Store. "It's bad, isn't it?"

"Dad…" I nodded against the phone, feeling a new swell of tears creeping into my eyes. I know what he's going to say. He's going to tell me to move back in with him – move back to Portland. "Dad, I… I…"

A loud beeping pulsed into my ear. I pulled the phone away from me and saw an incoming call waiting. Caller unknown.

"Hang on a second, I've got another call coming through. Probably something for Kate." I pressed hold on Ray and picked up the unknown caller, sniffing back my emerging tears. "Kate Kavanagh's phone."

"Err… I'm calling for Anastasia Steele." A male voice greeted me, gruff and familiar.

"This is she."

"It's Cal. From Maîtrise. You came for an interview today." He told me. I nodded. It's the guy from earlier. His voice is the same side of angry as before.

"Oh, right, I wasn't expecting a call back." I mumbled. "Ms Lincoln didn't… well, she told me her decision earlier."

"Yeah, whatever, she told me to call you anyway." He shot back. "You start tomorrow night. Be here at eight thirty on the dot. No later or you're out, you got it?"

"Wait, what?" I pushed off the couch, sitting up far too quickly. "I… I got the job?"

"You're on trial for a month. If you fuck up, you're out the door, Steele." He warned me. "I don't have time for wasters. I'll be responsible for your training. Ms Lincoln's told me that if at any point I see you struggling, I'm to cut you loose."

"You must be mistaken." I shook my head and brought my hand to my mouth. "Ms Lincoln said no earlier. She said I was wasting her time."

"Maybe she had a change of heart…" he sniggered. "You want the job or what?"

"Yes! Yes, I do."

"Good. The uniform is all black. For girls it's a black button up blouse, short sleeves, with a knee length skirt and plain black pumps. Stockings are preferred but not essential. We supply the uniform. I'll send someone over to your house tomorrow morning. Ms Lincoln guessed your size. If it doesn't fit, call me ASAP and I'll get something else to you." He reeled off. I nodded along silently to him. "Hair must be clean and tied back at all times. Makeup needs to be discreet and minimal. You got all that?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Eight thirty." He reminded me. "Salary is to be determined. We'll pay you at the end of the night. We'll work something out for next week. That's if you last the night."

"Thank you… Thank you so much." I rushed the words, my tongue struggling to get around them.

"Don't thank me. You wanna thank the boss." He said quickly before cutting off the call. For some reason, I didn't think he meant Ms Lincoln.

I sat still for a second. I feel uneasy for some reason. Like there's something I'm missing. A catch or something…

I looked down at the phone and took Ray off hold.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"I'm not sure…"


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended. **

**SuzB** – Thank you, my lovely! I'm glad you liked the first chapter. :) Hope you like this one, too. (Also, glad you like the title of the club!) Much Love x

**Bree** – Thank you! Hope you like this one, too. Much Love x

**Christian618** – Glad you liked the intervention in the last chapter. ;) Hope you like this chapter! Thank you! Much Love x

**LA** – Yay, thank you, LA! I'm so glad you liked it! :) I hope you enjoy the journey! Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thank you, Ellie! So glad you're looking forward to more. I hope you like it and it lives up to expectation! Much Love x

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><p><strong>Wow, thank you all so much for the comments on the last chapter, and for even daring to read it! I'm glad to see so many of you liked it. :)<strong>

**Hope you like this chapter. Just to reiterate, please bear with me if there are delays - working full time and writing my other FSoG FF is taking up a lot of my time, but I am dedicated to this story too. I will post updates whenever I have the chance. I promise!**

**Much Love and Many Thanks,**

**Chelsea x**

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><p>"Ana, I swear to almighty god, if you don't come out of the bathroom in the next ten seconds I am going to piss all over your bedroom floor!"<p>

Kate Kavanagh. 22 years old. Such a wonderful way with words.

I sighed as she rattled the door with her fist a few more times. I'm leaned forward over the basin, stealing myself just a moment in a bid to compose myself. Anxiety has condemned my stomach to nausea. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to stand upright, facing the mirror head on. I look paler than usual, the black of my uniform sucking all and any colour from my skin. My hair has been tamed into the mandatory ponytail expected of me. I had to battle with it for almost twenty minutes, my long brunette locks refusing to submit without a struggle. I added a hint of Kate's pink blusher to the apples of my cheeks, hoping to ease some of my deathly appearance. I'm not convinced it's helping.

Kate huffed outside the door, her dragon like breath signalling my final warning. I shook my head and left my reflection in the mirror, heading to the door. Kate barged past me before I even had chance to leave the room. Her sweat pants were already around her knees and she was grappling with her underwear. We have lived together for almost four years now and there is little by means of boundaries between us. I have seen and heard things that no person should ever have to endure. And peeing is definitely up there. Along with animal like sex howls in the middle of the night.

I moved around the living room, making my way to the table next to the couch. I lined up all of my belongings on here earlier, to save me rushing around just before I leave. I picked up my wallet and phone, and shoved them into my bag. I paused.

"Have you seen my keys?" I called out to Kate, unable to see them on the table.

"Check the bowl by the door." She shouted back at me, over the flush of the toilet. I went to the door and rummaged around in the mosaic fruit bowl we use as our key tray. It was a gift from my mother. It's hideous – a horrible concoction of green, brown and mustard – but we had to make use of it.

"Thank you," I mumbled as I picked up my keys. I pushed them into my bag and grabbed my jacket from the hook.

"Holy mother of Jesus…" Kate whistled as she came back into the main body of the apartment. She stopped abruptly in her tracks. I turned to face her and found her delicate features contorted. Her mint green eyes widened, looking up and down my front.

"What?"

"Ana… what the fuck are you wearing?" she inhaled a jittery breath. "You look like the grim reaper just exploded on you."

"Thanks. That's exactly the look I'm going for." I huffed, shoving my arms into the sleeves of my jacket. "I didn't choose the uniform."

"I thought you said you'll be working in a bar? Are you sure it's not a funeral parlour?"

I saw the first hint of smirk rise upon her face. I rolled my eyes.

I know I look awful. Black just isn't my colour.

I was almost excited when the courier arrived at nine a.m. this morning with my uniform sealed in a black dress bag. I knew it was all-black attire, but I was hoping to see a pop of colour in there somewhere. I found red on the soles of the shoes handed to me in a chunky white box. Kate mumbled the word Louboutin to me as she fawned over them. It meant very little to me. The shirt is much too tight for my liking, clinging to my body, the buttons threatening to burst open any second. I'm worried about moving too fast just in case I expose myself. The skirt is no better. It sits modestly at my knee, but similarly hugs my thighs, restraining me like a straightjacket. It fans out into pleats towards the hem, meaning I can move my knees a little. Without it, I'm afraid I'd resemble a constipated penguin.

I pushed my feet into my new patent shoes, wriggling my toes into place. I shuffled on the spot for a moment, checking the height and fit of them. They're surprisingly comfortable.

"Are you ready to go?" Kate asked, drawing my eyes up from my feet. She's putting on her trusty denim jacket. I nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay to drive me? I don't mind taking the bus." I reminded her. Over breakfast this morning Kate offered to drop me off and pick me up after my shift tonight. She complained about the idea of me roaming the streets in the dark.

"Of course," she smiled sweetly, pulling her blonde hair into a simple bun on the top of her head. She's only been home an hour and instead of partaking in her usual Thursday night routine of a bubble bath and glass of wine (Fridays are party nights, apparently), she changed quickly into some sweat pants and a tank top. She swapped her own high heels for some sneakers.

I said another word of thanks to her and stepped outside, waiting for her on the porch. It's a typically cold January evening. I shivered and hugged myself against the wind.

"Do you have everything?" Kate joined me on the porch. She locked the door behind us and jumped down onto the driveway. She unlocked her Mercedes and I raced to the passenger's seat.

"I think so," I nodded. Once inside the car, I checked my bag again. I mentally ticked off everything in there. I've brought everything with me, just in case. I've even got my passport, in case they want proof of identity or something.

Kate fired up her car and reversed out of the driveway, turning the heater onto its highest setting. After a few minutes I could feel her eyes on me, instead of the road.

"You okay?" she asked quietly.

"Hmm? Yeah, I'm okay."

I lied. I'm stupidly nervous. I don't know what to expect. It's the first night the club will be open to public, which means it's going to be super busy, right? There's got to be a list as long as the Great Wall of China of customers waiting to sample some of Maîtrise's finest. I'm also worried what they'll all expect of me – the other bartenders, Ms Lincoln, Cal. Maîtrise is a classy bar. They'll expect perfection. Anyone this side of Mars knows I'm far from perfect.

"Don't sweat it, Ana. It'll be a piece of cake." She nodded and smiled, pulling the car to a stop light. She rolled her head to me. "It's just serving drinks, not brain surgery. You'll pick it up in no time, I know you will."

"I wish I shared your optimism on that one." I sighed. Kate jabbed her finger into my arm.

"Hey, you'll be fine. Your shift will fly by. Before you know it, I'll be picking you up."

"I hope so." I formed a half-smile and settled into my seat, slugging down into it. I folded my arms across my chest. I just hope I can make it through the night without breaking something.

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><p>"You've been here fifteen minutes and you're already wrecking the place. Are you fucking kiddin' me, Steele?"<p>

Cal frowned a disgusted look as he slammed into the back room – the staff only area. The door swung back on its hinges. It's a spacious room, holding two leather couches, a fully equipped kitchen area, and a long dining table with eight high-backed chairs surrounding it. I'm sat at the head of the table, holding my hand up high, trying to stem the steady flow of blood trickling down my arm.

"What the fuck happened?" he asked, stomping his way towards me. When he reached me, he grabbed my wrist and tugged it down. My hand went limp as he pulled away the towel I pressed into my palm.

"I dropped some glasses on the floor." I told him quietly, wary of his reaction. "I tried to clear up the mess and, well, I cut my hand."

He poked around the wound in the centre of my palm, shaking his head at me. He hummed a noise.

"It's only superficial," he groaned. He tilted my hand towards the light overhead. "You won't need stitches. Go run it under some water. You need to make sure there's no glass in there. I'll grab the first aid kit."

I rose from the chair and moved over to the sink, pushing my hand under the cold water faucet. I winced as the water struck my cut. The blood turned pink, swirling in circles towards the hole at the bottom of the basin. It was mesmerising for a second, the moment disturbed when Cal slammed a cabinet shut. I looked over my shoulder and saw him dropping a large blue briefcase on the table. He popped open the lid and rummaged inside it.

"Come sit down," he told me, scraping my chair back from the table. I let my hand drip water across the floor as I moved back to the table. I sat down on the edge of the seat. Cal drew a chair to me. "Give me your hand."

I offered my hand and he grabbed the blooded towel and dabbed it across my palm, mopping up the water.

"I'm sorry," I apologised. My voice is muted and he didn't bother looking up at me. He kept his dark, almond shaped eyes on my palm. I looked down and examined the cut for myself. It really isn't that deep.

"It happens to all of us sooner or later." He shrugged it off. His New York accent is gruff and lead-like. He pulled some antiseptic from the box, poured some onto a piece of gauze and placed it over my palm. It didn't hurt. "Once I've cleaned and covered this, you can go home."

"What? No." I shook my head. He lifted his chin, looking up at me through his thick, dark lashes. "No, I'm here to work. I'm okay. You said it's just superficial. I'll be fine." I rambled. He stared at me for a few seconds before turning his head down to my hand again.

"Whatever," he shrugged his shoulders. He pulled a band-aid from the box and stuck it down onto my palm. "If you're going to stay, we need to run over some basics. Listen up, because I won't repeat myself."

I swallowed hard and sat up a little straighter. I focused on him, making myself aware of every word.

"I'm the manager here. I'm your immediate boss. It's my job to keep everything running smoothly, which means I'm going to be all over the place. I don't have time to watch over you 24-7." His voice oozed authority and sternness. It scared me a little. "I have a list of rules that you need to stick to, okay? It's for your own safety, no one else's."

"Okay," I nodded. I felt a sudden wave of nerves crush over me. _For my safety?_

"One – you're here to serve drinks, clear glasses, just your regular bartender stuff." He began wrapping a bandage around my hand, tightening it after every turn. "If anyone asks you do anything other than that, just tell them you're a bartender. This is an invitation-only club so we won't have too many perverts or drunks rolling around, but if you do get someone being too friendly with you, just come find me. I'll sort them out."

I didn't like the way he said 'sort them out'. Looking at his roughened knuckles, I can tell he's a fighter. He certainly looks the kind of guy who won't put up with crap off anyone.

"Two – if a customer asks you to get something for them that you don't understand or feel comfortable with getting, leave it to me."

"What kind of things will they ask for, other than drinks?" I narrowed my eyes and searched my brain. "Drugs?" I shuddered at the thought. "Will they ask for drugs?"

"Fuck no! You think I want crack or meth floating around the place?" he shook his head and grumbled at me. He didn't want to elaborate on what might be requested. "Three – don't ask questions. You'll want to ask questions; it's only natural. But don't. The customers won't appreciate it. A place like this runs off being discreet. So whatever you see or hear or think is going on, just keep it to yourself. Definitely don't discuss any of this with people outside, you hear me?"

I nodded. _A place like this_…

"Four – don't go upstairs." His voice became harder with this rule. "I mean it. Don't go up there."

"What can't I go up there?"

"No questions, remember." He shook his head and his jaw twitched. "It doesn't matter what's up there. We have six rooms that customers can book out for private parties. You don't need to worry about them… There is a chart preloaded on the tablet next to the register, with details about which rooms are being used. If you get a customer asking for a room, check the chart and if there's a room available, take their name and give them the key from the ones hanging up next to the spirits. You don't show them to the room. You just hand over the key and that's it."

"I think I can do that." I gulped.

"Five – you have any problems, you come to me. I'm your boss. Don't go crying to Ms Lincoln. With any luck she'll hardly be here and when she is, she should be hauled up in her office or in one of the rooms upstairs. You won't see much of her. Consider yourself lucky." He snorted. He added a final piece of tape to my bandage and retracted his hands. I flexed my fingers into a fist and checked the pain. It doesn't hurt too much.

"I kinda wanted to thank her for changing her mind." I muttered. Cal shook his head, scowling at me.

"It wasn't her decision. And before you get any ideas, it wasn't mine either." He looked over me and gave no care for my feelings. I can tell he thinks I'm a lost cause where this job is concerned. "Look, Steele, a girl like you doesn't belong in a place like this. If I had my way, you'd be out of here, working in some snooty office somewhere. But I can see you're desperate for the money so I'm willing to help you out. Stick to the rules and you should be fine."

"I'll try." I promised him.

"Tonight will be an easy shift. It's the pre-opening, only a select few are coming along." Cal began packing away the first aid box. "Tomorrow is our official opening. You're going to work tonight's shift and then, if I think you can handle it, you'll start again next Thursday. I won't make you work tomorrow or over the weekend… We only open Thursday night through Monday morning - eleven 'til 4am."

"What about the, um, money?" I mumbled. I glanced down at my fingers and blew out a shallow breath. "It's just…"

"You're poor, I get it." He filled in the blanks. I nodded. "I know what it's like to be straight out of college and have barely a dollar to your name. But don't worry about the money. Lincoln pays good. Well, it has to be for what they're asking us to do." He droned to himself. "What you earn tonight will cover you for the next week easy, don't worry."

Cal stood up and dragged the box across the table, sliding it into his hold as he moved over to the cabinets above the long granite coated counter. He's wearing a fitted black shirt, tucked into charcoal slacks. His ebony hair is spiked into a Mohican and from just above his collar, I can see a tattoo scorning his skin at the back of his neck.

"Lincoln's partner will come by tonight and hand over our pay checks. Apparently there's been an issue with her accounts. I dunno, I wasn't really listening." He told me. His honesty was something I appreciated.

"She's married then?" I hesitated over my question. Cal shook his head.

"Divorced… her ex is definitely a lucky bastard for escaping her claws." He snorted a laugh. "No, I mean her business partner. She owns forty per cent of the place, her partner owns the rest. He's a silent partner, so you won't see him around much. In fact, you'll be lucky to see him at all after tonight. He's only coming here because Lincoln's fucked off to Chicago for the weekend."

It's obvious he doesn't like Ms Lincoln. But I gather it's more than just a clash of personalities. From the way he squirms at the mere thought of her…

"Cal, can I ask you something?" I paused. He didn't shake his head so I took that as a yes. "If you don't like Ms Lincoln, why work for her?"

"It's a job and it pays good money, better than most places. And I don't have to like her to work for her. I'm here to make money, not friends. I suggest you adopt the same mentality, Steele."

He turned on his heels and trudged to the door.

"It's Ana. My name's Ana." I told him, rising off my seat a little to carry my voice forward. He didn't look back to me.

"Whatever, Steele."

The door bounced backwards behind him, leaving me alone again. I looked all around me, feeling so small and naïve in this place. I looked above me, to the clock on the wall.

"Show time," I whispered as it chimed ten o'clock.

* * *

><p>At a little after four thirty Cal slammed the doors shut and closed the bar for the night. He showed the last of our customers to their limousines and personal driver's, and locked us inside. I survived my first shift.<p>

I hovered around the bar, collecting the remaining glasses from the tables. The other bartenders are in the back, sorting through crates of beers and boxes of mixers. I haven't spoken to any of them. I tried talking to a slender redhead but she ignored me before heading upstairs.

"You look like shit, Steele." Cal beckoned my attention, coming to stand in front of me. He dropped a glass into my plastic carrier. I've spent most of the evening collecting glasses. "You never worked a night shift in your life, have you?"

I shook my head. "Did I do okay, considering?"

"There's a lot for you to work on," he said. "You didn't break any more glasses and you only fucked up three drink orders, so I guess that's something to be proud of."

I could feel his sarcasm like it was a slap across the face. I clenched my teeth together. _Ana rule number one: learn to ignore Cal's snarky comments. _

A loud thudding rocked the door, sending the noise through the bar. I jerked my head to the door and then to Cal. He remained passive, shrugging his shoulders.

"That'll be the boss man. Go let him in. I need grab the spare set of keys Lincoln left for him." He called to me as he charged towards the office on my right.

I dragged my feet across the floor. My shoes were comfortable earlier but now, after being on my feet all night, they are causing irreparable damage. I reached the door and unlocked the clasps at the top and bottom before turning the key. I paused, smoothed my hair back, and cranked the door wide open. I stepped aside, keeping my head forward.

It was several seconds before a tall, exquisitely dressed man stalked into the building. I felt the room swell as he entered.

My eyes ran the length of him. He's wearing a dark grey suit, sculpted perfectly to his frame, one hand fisted into his right pant pocket. I looked slowly up from his waist to his torso. Under his jacket I can see a buttoned vest, white shirt and a thin black tie.

"Is Caleb here?" he snapped me from my examination of him. His voice is cool and tense. He turned to face me. His features are dominant and masculine. His steely eyes stole my gaze until I couldn't stomach the intensity lingering in them. I glanced around him.

"Um, y-yes. He's getting keys… the keys… your keys." I stumbled over my tongue. I jerked my head down and back towards the office. "He'll be with you in a minute."

He sucked in a sharp breath and brought his hand to his face, scratching at his jaw for a moment. His hair shone under the dimmed lights, reflecting copper tones in his otherwise brunette mix. He must have felt me staring at him. He snapped his head towards me and stilted me in my intrusion. His eyes roamed my face and the base of my neck. My heart quickened.

"Can I get a drink?" he asked, nodding to the bar.

"Yes, of course, sir." I picked up my heavy legs and raced to the bar. I think I saw the corner of his mouth rise into a smirk. I circled the bar and took my place opposite him. "What can I get you?"

_Please don't be something difficult_…

"Single scotch. Neat." He ordered, leaning onto his elbow, propping himself sideways against the bar. I grabbed a glass from the pile under the counter and turned towards the shelf of spirits. I searched for the whiskey bottle and shoved the glass against the faucet, waiting as a single measure dripped out. I turned back towards him, placing the glass in front of him. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a series of grey envelopes. He flicked through them and paused. "Actually, put some ice in the glass."

I took the glass back and traced the bar around to the side, where the ice machine is. I pressed for three cubes and watched as they dropped into the glass, clinking and splashing against the caramel liquid. I heard him fiddling with one of the envelopes. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him putting something inside it before sealing it again. I caught a glimpse of his wallet before he shoved it into his jacket.

"Thank you." He nodded as I slid the glass back his way. He sipped at it, watching me at all times. I hovered near the register, rocking on the spot. He lowered his glass and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, collecting some of the moisture from his drink. "It's Anastasia, isn't it?"

"I prefer Ana," I nodded.

He nodded and smiled in return. He looked down at the pile of envelopes. He picked up the first one in the pile and handed it to me. My name is written on it in thick black lines, handwritten.

"Your wages for this evening," he told me. "It's cash. Unfortunately Ms Lincoln had some issues setting up the account so we could transfer money directly into your bank." He explained with such proficiency. I felt like I could lose myself in his words. "It should be dealt with by next week. I hope it won't be too much of an inconvenience having cash?"

"No, no cash is fine, thank you." I smiled, accepting the envelope.

"You're welcome, Anastasia." He definitely smirked this time. "You'll get paid every week."

"Thank you, Mr…" I waited for him to give me his name.

"Grey. Christian Grey." He drawled his name. _Christian Grey_. I've heard his name before…

"Thank you, Mr Grey." I nodded.

"You can call me Christian." He corrected me. I gulped. He placed too much emphasis on 'you'. "How did you find your first shift, Anastasia? Did it run smoothly?" he pursued me. He began circling his middle finger around the lip of his glass.

"It was good." I nodded. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the rhythmic motion of his finger.

"Good."

I looked to the office door as Cal came back into the bar. He straightened his shoulders at the sight of Christian.

"Mr Grey," Cal nodded. He swaggered towards Christian and forced his hand out. Christian accepted it, shaking and squeezing his hand hard. "Good to see you again, sir."

"I believe those are mine?" Christian gestured to the keys in Cal's hand. Cal nodded and handed them over. "I have all your wages here. I'll leave you to distribute them. I've already personally given Anastasia hers." He looked towards me and gave me a dazzling smile. I could feel my cheeks reddening.

Cal tensed up a little.

"Sir, can we have a moment alone in the office?" he pointed over his shoulder. "There are some things we need to discuss."

Christian huffed, displeased. He reluctantly nodded and lifted himself upright, adjusting his suit jacket. He knocked back the rest of his drink and offered the glass to me. I hesitated before taking it from him.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Anastasia."

Cal shook his head and moved back towards the office, refusing to wait for Christian.

"I'll look forward to seeing you again. When are you next working?" he asked me.

"Thursday." I stuttered.

"Thursday," he nodded. "I'll see you then."

"You will?" I swallowed. "Right… sorry, I just… I was told you wouldn't come here often. Not that you shouldn't come here, it's your club… sorry, I'm rambling… Cal said you were a silent partner. He said you were only coming here because Ms Lincoln is away."

He laughed at me. I flushed fire truck red. _Why did I say that? Learn to keep your mouth shut, Ana! _

He leaned closer to the bar and lowered his voice.

"That was the plan, but it appears I now have a reason to come here more often." He smirked again. "And it's not to admire the upholstery."

"It's…"

"Good night, Anastasia." He turned and walked away from me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

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><p><strong>Hello Everyone!<strong>

**Bit of a delay. I've been a busy bee at work. But alas, here's the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!**

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* * *

><p>Ever since I was a kid, I've been an early bird. It's like there is something inside me that begrudges sleeping in past eight-thirty. I can't remember that last time I overslept. But I know it'll be different now.<p>

When I got home from my first shift at Maîtrise, I crashed. I crashed hard.

Kate was patiently waiting for me outside the club at quarter to five, bright eyed and bushy tailed even though she must have only got a few hours' sleep before coming to pick me up. She greeted me with a smile and a bottle of ice cold water, pre-empting that I'd need it after a long and sweaty night. She wanted to know everything, especially how I managed to hurt my hand. She laughed when I told her, knowing how accident prone I am. We got back to the apartment just after five and I crawled straight to my bedroom, threw back the comforter, and climbed into bed. I fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow, my energy levels falling through the floor. I slept through until my body had had its fill, sufficiently recovered.

Rolling onto my back, I patted down the comforter in search of my cell phone. I grumbled until I found it underneath my pillow. I pulled it up above my face and brought the screen to life. The light burned my eyes, forcing me to hold it away from me for several minutes. Once the blurriness had dissipated, I glanced at the time. 4:49p.m.

"You up yet?" Kate knocked on my bedroom door, pushing it open before I had chance to answer her. I dropped my phone and found her standing just inside my room, carrying a tray in front of her. I lifted myself up, to see what's on it. "I made you some tea and toast," she explained, stepping around the bed to sit down at the foot. "I heard you rolling around."

"Thanks," I said groggily, sitting up. Kate placed the try between us and began pouring me a cup from the pot. I tugged at my shirt, confused to see that I'm still wearing my uniform. I guess it's probably a good thing that I'm not working tonight; it would take forever to get all these creases out.

"How's your hand?" Kate asked, gesturing to my bandage as she passed over my cup. I flexed my fingers and winced. It didn't hurt yesterday. But now it feels tight and sore. "I found some dressing and antiseptic in the bathroom. I'll clean that up for you later." She smiled sweetly.

I narrowed my eyes. "Who are you and what have you done with my roommate? Kate Kavanagh doesn't nurse people. And she certainly doesn't bring them breakfast in bed."

"Kate Kavanagh wanted to congratulate her best friend on surviving her first shift unscathed. Well, almost –" she looked my hand again and giggled. She grabbed a piece of toast from the tray, taking a huge bite.

I sat back against my headboard and picked at the toast, separating each bite with a sip of my tea. Kate filled me in on what she's been doing while I've been slept, telling me all about her trip into the heart of the city to get some groceries. She was interrupted by the house phone ringing from the kitchen. I made to get up but Kate shot me down, jumping up and darting out of the bedroom to answer it. I watched her through the doorway.

"Hello?" she answered, holding the phone to her ear as she propped herself against the countertop. "Yes, she does… She's okay… Okay, no problem. Will do. Thanks."

She put the phone down.

"Who was that?" I called out to her. She turned and came back towards my room, shrugging her shoulders.

"Someone from the club," she said, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed. She rested her hands on the footboard. "A guy. He was checking you got home okay last night. Wanted to know how you are today."

"Hm, it was probably Cal." I nodded. She shrugged again. She's wearing a long, cable knit sweater that's falling down on the left side, exposing her shoulder.

"He didn't leave a name. He said to tell you that payments to your account is sorted now?" Her sculpted brows lowered around her eyes, looking for an explanation.

"Oh I was paid cash last night. They couldn't set up the transfer in time."

She mouthed an 'O' and then nodded. "So how much did you pick up?"

"I haven't checked," I shook my head. I had shoved the envelope into my bag at the end of my shift, forgetting all about it until now. "Cal picked up $950 for the week, but he's the manager so mine will be a lot, lot lower."

I pushed the tray away and leaned over the side of my bed, grabbing my bag from the floor. I reached inside and rummaged for the small, grey envelope I was given. Kate hovered as I tore it open and pulled out the neatly stacked piles of cash inside it.

"Whoa…" I gasped, staring at the wad of crisp fifty dollar bills in my hand. "No way…"

The money has been divided into two parts, each held together by a white clip that has 'GEH' written on it.

I looked at the top pile first, flicking through the notes. I counted $200. I blinked and counted again, confused.

I stopped breathing as I checked the second pile. _Three_… _Four_… _Five_… Six hundred dollars.

"This can't be right," I shook my head and dropped the money onto the bed, too scared to touch it. Kate threw me a concerned look. "They've given me eight hundred dollars."

"Shit!" Her eyes widened and her mouth fell apart. "Eight hundred for one night?"

I nodded.

"I'm in the wrong job!" She snorted.

I stared at the money for a moment, hardly noticing the business card attached to the larger stack of notes. I slipped it out from under the 'GEH' clip and examined it.

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

We invest in humanity.

Christian Grey. My boss. Or at least he's one of them.

Just seeing his name brings him back into my mind. That sharp face that could easily be covering magazines and billboard worldwide. Those intense, slate grey eyes that had me on tenterhooks from the second he first looked at me. His dark suit, tailored perfectly to fit every line of his body.

I shivered, picturing him standing there, staring at from the other side of the bar.

I flipped the business card over and saw that, on the back, there is a handwritten note. It was clearly written in haste, the ink smudged in places. The writing is still readable, though.

_Thank you for the drink. It was made with perfection._

_C._

I blew out a long breath. It took a second to understand what it meant. The money is a tip. A six hundred dollar tip.

"I wish I could earn eight hundred for one days' work." Kate's voice broke my thoughts. I blinked hard several times. She grinned at me. "Not bad for a crappy bar job, right?" she winked, reiterating the words I said to her when she dropped me off in front of the club last night.

"I guess not," I muttered.

"And before you even say it, no I am not accepting any money from you. We've already had this discussion. You don't owe me anything." She said firmly, knowing exactly what I was going to do. I was prepared to hand whatever money I got to her.

"But Kate, you've spent so much money on me these past few months," I admonished, shaking my head. "I want to pay you back."

"You don't have to. That's what friends do for each other." She offered me an award winning smile, her soft features swathed in her generosity. "Now you're earning the big bucks, you can start rebuilding that savings account you drained."

"Kate –"

"We can split the bills between us but whatever is left over is yours. I don't want a single penny of it."

Realising she won't back down I let the matter drop, smiling shyly in agreement. I feel bad for not returning the money she's given me. I will have to think of a different way to pay her back.

"Right, I'm in the mood for a night in front of the TV." She clapped her hands together. "How about I order us a pizza and we watch a movie?"

"Sounds great," I nodded. "But I'm paying for the pizza."

"Meh…" she winked and bounced out of my room, heading back across the length of the apartment to grab the phone.

I dithered for a short while, wondering what to do with the obscene amount of money I now have. I spent years building up my savings account, and still it never reached that high of a figure. I don't think I've ever had this much in one go.

The business card winked at me.

I can't accept this. I can't. It's too much.

I grabbed my phone and punched in the number on the front of the card. I hit 'dial' and forced the phone to my ear before I could chicken out of the call. His voice is so… _intimidating_.

The call rang out several times before it was picked up. A brass female voice answered.

"Grey Enterprises Holdings. Mr Grey's office."

She didn't ask if she could help me. I nodded at the abrupt, stand-offish greeting and swallowed past the dryness in my throat. I wonder if everyone connected to Christian Grey or Ms Lincoln is blunt and terse.

"Um, can I speak to Mr Grey, please?" I asked quietly, rubbing my fingertips over my lip.

"Mr Grey is unavailable." She dismissed my request immediately. "Do you have a message you wish to pass onto him?"

"Yes."

"What is your name?" Her voice is so cold and to-the-point, no quivering. If her voice were a touch deeper, I would think it was Ms Lincoln answering the call. She sighed at my hesitation.

"Ana. Ana Steele." I told her. "Well, Anastasia Steele. From Maîtrise." I corrected myself. He probably knows a million Ana's. He's probably already forgotten who I am.

The line went silent for the longest time. I pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected. It's not the best cell phone in the world but it still works and that's the main thing. Or at least, I hope it still works.

"Hello?" I asked into the silence.

"Mr Grey has just become available. Transferring you now." She snapped back and the line went dead, followed by a click, and then it was him. His voice oozed through the speaker, tickling my ear.

"Miss Steele," he purred. I tensed up at his relaxed tone. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I, um…" I stuttered. I closed my eyes and tried to push away the image of him building again in my mind. "I wanted to speak with you about my pay from last night… I work at Maîtrise."

"I know exactly who you are, Miss Steele." His said with such ease that it threw me off balance. I can detect a hint of laughter about him. "Is there a problem?"

"Y-Yes."

"There shouldn't be. I personally filled each envelope, so I know the amount is correct." He replied. "Were you expecting more? I don't believe we formally discussed salary with you."

"It's too much." I finally got the words out. Though, it was so quiet I'm not sure whether he heard me at first. He laughed down the phone.

"How do you determine that it is too much, Anastasia?"

_Anastasia. _

I hope to God he can't hear me squirming right now.

"Well?" he prompted. I can hear a slight tapping on his side, as if he's strumming his fingers on a desk.

"Eight hundred dollars for one night is far too much, Mr Grey." I mumbled, exhaling heavily. I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to disguise it. "It's just too much."

He sighed back at me and paused. He had quietened when he returned to me. "Opening night salary is double the regular rate as we anticipate that it is one of our busiest nights. We also increase salary on state holidays." He explained clearly. "I can assure you that you received the appropriate amount. Two hundred dollars."

"And the additional six hundred?"

"That is a tip. And it was well deserved. I like to reward good service and you were excellent, Anastasia." He drawled with his melted chocolate voice. "I look forward to seeing you on Thursday. I shall be around from eleven o'clock."

"Thursday?"

"Your next shift." He reminded me and broke into a snigger. "Well, that is if we haven't already sent you running for the hills."

"No… not at all." I said quickly, almost stumbling over the words. Why would I be running for the hills? It wasn't that busy last night. "But really, Mr Grey, I can't accept this money."

"You can and you will. I won't discuss the matter further." He dropped the silkiness and adopted a forceful, dominant tone. "I have to go now, Anastasia. Thank you for your call. I was looking forward to hearing your voice again."

I shuddered. Something cold trickled down my spine.

"I'll see you Thursday."

"Okay."

"And Anastasia?"

"Yes?"

"Please wear your hair down in future. I would like to see you with it loose."

I instinctively pulled my free hand up to my hair, raking my fingers through what's left of my ponytail. I stared at the dark tendrils falling through the gaps between my fingers. I prefer having my hair down. I think I look better - more presentable - when it's down.

But the ponytail is part of the uniform.

"I'm required to have it tied up at all times." I tell him. I feel uneasy about correcting him. I don't want to offend him. "Cal said –"

"Ignore what he said." He commanded. "I'm telling you to wear it down. If anyone mentions it, you can tell them I authorised the uniform change. I don't want your hair tied up. Not yet."

I gulped.

"Good evening, Anastasia."

"Good evening, Christian."

The call ended before I could correct my mistake. I threw my phone onto my bed, narrowly missing the tray, and pushed my hands up to my face. He said to call him Christian last night, but today might be different.

"Oh God…" I sighed, falling back into my pillows.

* * *

><p>"What I wouldn't give to be Sandra Bullock right now…" Kate blew out a long breath and pretending to fan herself down with her hand. "Damn, that boy is fine."<p>

I rolled my eyes at both her and the television, just as Ryan Reynolds slammed butt-naked into his co-star. I didn't choose the film, but didn't argue with Kate over it either. After all she's done for me, I'm not about to start complaining now. I can handle two hours of romantic comedy slushiness.

We're sat on the long, chocolate coloured couch in our living room, each of us curled up in the corners with our comforters. Unable to get into the movie, I began answering the text messages I had received when I was asleep. Both Ray and my mother wanted to know how my first night at work was. I gave them generic replies, telling them everything went fine and that I'm looking forward to my next shift. I'm not sure I am, if I'm honest. Not now I know Christian will be there again.

My phone rattled again with another incoming message. I smiled as I read it.

_In Seattle tomorrow for an evening shoot. You free for Lunch? J_

José Rodriguez is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since we were kids, living three streets apart for years. We became friends as a result of Ray and José's father working together in the military. We used to spend every summer racing through the street outside my house on our bikes, climbing the tree in my backyard, or simply lying on the grass, staring up at the clouds. We drifted apart when his family moved from Portland to Atlanta when we were eleven. I hadn't seen or spoken to him until a few years back, when, thanks to Facebook and some light stalking, I tracked him down. We were both already attending WSU but hadn't bumped into each other. I plucked up the courage to send him a friend request and everything clicked back into place.

He's still at WSU, due to graduate this year. Since the start of his degree, José has hated it. He wanted to switch to photography, where he passion lies, but didn't want to upset his father who said he needed a 'real degree'. José works freelance for weddings and private parties, but rarely makes the trip to Seattle so I'm excited with the thought of him coming here.

I fired back a quick reply.

_Absolutely. And Lunch is on me. I finally got a job! A_

_Hey, look at you! Congrats. Earning top dollar, right? J_

_As if I'd settled for less? Come by the apartment at 1. I'll make us something to eat. A_

_Make some cookies! You know how I love them. ;) See you tomorrow. J x_

I tried to ignore the kiss on the end. I crossed my fingers and prayed that this time we meet it won't be half as awkward.

I haven't seen José for months. It was not long after me and Kate had made the move to Seattle, and we were having a housewarming party to celebrate. José had come over in advance to help us set up and all evening he had been acting strange, hovering around me like a child. I brushed it off until he began drinking and his confidence went through the ceiling. The alcohol had lowered his inhibitions, resulting in him somehow coercing me into my bedroom, pushing me up against the door and trying to kiss me. Which resulted in me kneeing him hard in the crotch. It sobered him up instantly. We met up a few weeks' later and he didn't mention it. He was quiet and left after an hour, and I hadn't heard from him since.

"Who are you messaging now?" Kate whined, flicking a napkin my way. "You're missing Ryan's good side!"

"José." I told her. She jerked her head to me and frowned. I had told her about the drunken incident the morning after the party. She had spent all evening sandwiched between two tall, dark-haired guys, disappearing into her bedroom with both of them. At the same time. I didn't see either of them again.

"What does he want?"

"He's coming over for lunch tomorrow." I explained. "And I'd really, really appreciate it if you were here, too. It'll be awkward with just the two of us. I know it will." I pouted my lower lip.

"No way," she shook her head and crossed her arms. "All that pent up sexual energy will cripple me. Everyone this side of the equator knows he is desperate to bone you."

I sucked in a sharp breath. "And he knows I'm not interested in him that way."

"Ana, you're not interested in anyone that way." She corrected me, tilting her head back against the cushion behind her. "Seriously, when was the last time you went on a date?"

"I don't know. It's not something I keep count of."

I lied. I remembered it perfectly. It was December 15th 2010. Kate had forced me into a double-date with her then boyfriend and his younger brother. It was awful. My date spent all night ignoring me, directing his conversation to Kate's ample cleavage.

"You've gotta get yourself out there. You can't stay a virgin forever." She whined. I rolled my eyes, having heard this all before. "You know what they say. If you don't use it, you'll lose it."

"Somehow I don't think my vagina is going to drop off." I quipped, stealing the last slice of pizza from the box. "Besides, who knows, I might meet someone. I work in a bar now. Maybe I'll be swept off my feet by a customer and be whisked off in a whirlwind romance?"

Kate arched her brow with scepticism.

"It's a long shot," I admitted.

"What's the cliental like?"

I can tell she's on the hunt for new prey. She hasn't been with a guy for three months – her longest spell since she broke up with her ex over a year ago. For quite a few months she took just about anything with a pulse to her bed. The noises were unbearable. I forced her to move her bed away from my wall, fed up with hearing her headboard banging into it all night long.

"Mostly older. Good mix of men and women. All of them look rich, though." I explained. "None of them were particularly chatty, especially the men. They just ordered their drinks and went upstairs. I didn't see them again until they left."

"Rich, older men who don't talk much… sounds perfect to me." She winked and let out a small laugh. "What happens upstairs?"

"I don't know. I'm not allowed up there."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." I shrugged. "They're private hire rooms. I think they do meetings up there or something. Everyone was dressed in suits. People in business, no doubt."

"Meetings in a nightclub? At night?" Kate raised her brows, not buying my guess.

"It's not that kind of club. It's not really a party kind of place. They played really weird classical music, but it was so quiet." I explained. "It's more sophisticated than the bars we go to."

"Weird… I suppose it could make sense, though. CEO's are all night owls, aren't they? To keep up with the Far East and stuff. Obsessed with money, the lot of them. Money hungry tight-asses, that's what I call them."

I wonder if Christian is a night owl. He's definitely not a tight-ass when it comes to money. He couldn't be to give me that much money for getting him a drink I'm not even sure I got right. He asked for whiskey but the club stocks a dozen of them, all supposedly different. They call looked the same though. I just picked the first one I came to.

"And speaking of hungry, I need ice-cream." Kate announced, pushing up from the couch with a sigh. "Want some?"

"Sure," I nodded.

My phone buzzed again my lap, distracting me. I picked it up and saw a new message. I expected it to be from José, complete with another unwanted kiss on the end, but it wasn't. It was from an unfamiliar number.

_Don't stress about the money. You earned it. And you will earn every tip I give you. You are more than worth it. Christian._

My heart leapt into my throat.

He texted me.

He has my number. And now I have his.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Most of the characters in this story are those from the Fifty Shades Trilogy. They remain the rightful property of E L James. Recognisable brands, places, music or films remain the property of their owners. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Hard Limits** – I don't normally like to give out spoilers, but I can assure you that Christian will not be engaging with any woman other than Ana in this story. I hope this settles your mind! As for Cal, we will learn more about him as we go along. :) Thank you. Much Love x

**Ellie** – Thank you! I'm glad you are enjoying it so far and are looking forward to more! Hope you like this chapter :) Much Love x

**Angelica** – Glad you're enjoying it! Thank you! Hope you like this one. Much Love x

**LA** – I'm intrigued too! I would've explored it by now if I was Ana. I'm a bit rebellious like that. Cal would certainly have his hands full if I worked for him! :) Thank you! Much Love x

**SuzB** – Hm, maybe Ana will work it out soon? Who knows… Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. Much Love x

**Bree** – Love triangles? Maybe… Anything could happen, after all. :P Thank you! Much Love x

**Lis** – Something tells me Ana won't be too shy with her feelings… Thank you! Hope you like this chapter! Much Love x

**Excaliber** – Glad you're looking forward to more chapters. Hope you like this one! Much Love x

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><p><strong>Hello my lovelies!<strong>

**Apologies for the rather long delay - it's been a busy old time of late! **

**I hope you are all having a wonderful week and have an amazing New Year's celebration lined up! I wish you all lots of love and happiness for 2015!**

**I hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit longer to make up for the lack of an update! **

**Much Love,**

**Chelsea x**

**(P.S. I uploaded a one-shot type of Christmas/New Year story of our favourite family, would love you to read it! It will be a two part story - the second part will be uploaded soon! x)**

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><p>After straightening out my blouse for the hundredth time, I smoothed my fingers through my hair, desperate to keep my hands busy and my mind away from the uncomfortable thought of spending the next hour or so alone with José. Kate agreed to be here and she was going to be until about twenty minutes ago when she was called out to investigate a possible story down at Pike Place Market. I envied her, wishing I had an excuse to cancel. I hoped José would call and say he couldn't make it, but he sent a text just now to say he was on his way. I was looking forward to him coming over but now, after overthinking the situation, I feel nervous and unsure.<p>

_What if he tries to kiss me again?_

"There's no backing out now," I sang quietly to myself as the buzzer rang three times. I moved slowly over to the intercom. "Hello?"

"Saludos, mi buen amigo!" José called through the speaker, his voice as cheery and upbeat as ever. It immediately put me on edge. "Let me in, it's freezing out here!"

"Come on up. The door's open." I buzzed him into the building and unlocked the door, stepping away from it and heading back to the kitchen counter where I have laid out everything for our lunch. I fiddled helplessly with the pile of napkins I got out.

I heard José jogging up the steps to the apartment. He was humming a tune to himself as he came through the door boldly, causing it to swing back on its hinges. I lifted my head to find a wide, all-teeth-showing grin on his lips.

"Hi," I said first, holding my hand up for a quick, awkward wave. He smiled at my greeting before he pulled his thick, woollen sweater over his head. The t-shirt underneath rode up as he removed the sweater, lifting and exposing his tight abdomen for a moment. I dropped my eyes to the counter. "Erm, I hope you're hungry," I stuttered, quiet laughter seeping into my voice. "I think there's enough food here to feed the five thousand!"

"I could eat a horse! I skipped breakfast especially." He flashed another grin and came towards me. "Oh come here –"

Before I could process what was happening, I was in his arms, pressed closely into his chest and suspended in the air. With the force of his embrace, he lifted me from the floor and began spinning me on the spot.

"Whoa…" I gasped, grabbing onto his shoulders to regain some balance, but also to put some distance between us.

"Sorry," he laughed, placing me back on my feet. His hands lingered a little too long on my sides, holding onto me by my ribs. I looked up to his face, seeing something flicker in his big, chocolate brown eyes. "God, it's been too long. I was starting to forget what you looked like."

His laughter pattered out. He didn't move until I pulled away, uncomfortable with the intimacy of his touch. His hands slipped slowly from me, dropping back to his sides.

"Ana…" he sighed my name.

"I made cookies," I interrupted, pointing to the dish holding the dozen or so cookies I made this morning. "Fresh out of the oven, just how you like them."

He nodded his head and turned to pick up his bag from the floor. "I thought we could open this," he said, pulling out a bottle of red wine from inside. He held it up for inspection. "It's good stuff, apparently. What do you say? We crack this open over lunch?"

I shrugged and skirted around him, to grab some glasses from the top cabinet. I told him to take a seat at the couch, thinking we could eat there to keep things casual. I joined him a few seconds later, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of him. He popped the cork and poured equal, plentiful amounts into the glasses. We didn't raise a toast.

"So, what do you think?" he asked, forcing my attention to him, something I have avoided properly since he arrived. He ran his fingers over his chin and the swatch of hair covering it. "I decided to let it grow, to see what it looks like. Does it look okay?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," I shook my head, exhaling a laugh of sorts. "All that matters is if you like it."

José hummed a quiet noise and sat forward, bringing himself to the edge of the couch. I decided against sitting beside him, wanting to keep a gap between us at all times. After all, the last two times we have seen each other were awkward and estranged – the first from him trying to stick his tongue down my throat, and the second from him refusing to discuss what had happened and leaving abruptly, without telling me where he was going.

I pulled a cushion from a nearby chair and threw it on the floor before sitting down on it. I sat opposite him, the coffee table between us.

We began piling our plates with the mix of vegetables and seasoned chicken I prepared. I chose to make fajitas – a quick and easy dish that isn't likely to bring about any romantic encounters. Or at least I'm praying it doesn't.

"Looks great," he said, quickly taking his first bite. He nodded and released a pleasure filled sound. "Hm, tastes amazing…"

"Glad you like it," I murmured back. I brought my glass to my lips, gulping it back in one go. It tastes disgusting but I ignore the acidity. José pretended not to notice my sour expression.

It's not as if José is unattractive, because he isn't. He has rich Latino blood that oozes from him in both looks and personality. He has deep, caramel skin, and dark hair that he always keeps short and utilitarian in style. He stands tall at almost 6ft, and is well toned, his arms evidence enough of endless hours spent in the gym. When we were younger, he was always much smaller than me, in both height and width. He's far from the slim, nerdy looking boy in some of his older Facebook pictures. He even swapped his wide-rimmed glasses for contact lenses.

Since he beefed up, women throw themselves at him. Some guys, too. They only see the superficial side of José, whereas I know, deep down, he's more than just a pretty face. He's a gentleman. He's kind and considerate. He's the guy you can call at 3am for no reason other than to complain and have someone listen to your woes.

I love him. Honestly, I do. But I'm not in love with him and I don't think I ever could be. I just can't force something that isn't there.

In between bites, we exchanged quiet conversation – talking about his plans after college, my new job, just normal stuff. I could tell that with every silent pause he was growing shy around me, his buoyancy from earlier disappearing.

I had been dreading one of us bringing up the 'incident'. But it had to be discussed sooner or later. It was the elephant in the room that neither of us could ignore for much longer.

"Is everything okay between us, Ana?" José started, keeping his voice muted and low. His eyes fixed on the remnants of his lunch, his fingers picking at a small piece of tortilla. "You know, because of what happened…"

I inhaled a deep breath and sat back from the coffee table. I kept my wine glass in my hands, stroking my thumb up and down the neck.

"I don't know," I mumbled. "You tell me… The last time I saw you, you just disappeared. One minute you were there and then you were gone. You just left."

"I know," he nodded. He dropped back into the couch, bringing his hands to his cheeks. He rubbed at them hard for several seconds. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that… It was just so weird between us. You could hardly stand to be near me. I couldn't take it. I just had to get out of there."

"And leave me in a crowded bar, waiting around to see if you were going to come back?"

He nodded again. He finally brought his eyes to me. They were soft and almond shaped, full of sadness. It broke my heart a little.

"I did something stupid," he mumbled, referring to our kiss, if you can call it that. "I totally misread the situation. I was drunk. I didn't know what I was doing." He shook his head. I didn't believe his last statement was true. I suspected he knew exactly what he was doing. "I acted on an impulse. That's all it was. It didn't mean anything. It was a mistake."

"You sure about that?" I asked tentatively. He nodded, raising his brows slightly.

"I didn't feel anything," he smiled shyly before snorting a laugh. "Well, except for your knee hitting me straight in my misters!"

I laughed with him. We both lifted our glasses for a sip. I watched him over the brim of my glass. He raked his shoulders back.

"Look, Ana, I don't want this to ruin what we have between us." He whispered in a gruff tone. "I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want that either, but –" I stopped myself. I looked away from him and shook my head. "José, I just don't see you that way. I'm sorry but –"

"I know."

"José…"

"Can we just forget it? Move past it, pretend like it never happened?" he asked, almost begging me.

I nodded, hoping that we can forget all of this.

He smiled and stood up from the couch. He wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans and came towards me, stopping at my side. I twisted to look up at him.

"Hug it out or is that taking it too far?" he questioned, his brows low around his eyes. I hesitated before accepting his offer to help me from the floor.

He pulled me to my feet and then opened his arms for me to step into. I placed my cheek to his chest.

I used to feel safe in his arms. I still do, to an extent, but it's different now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him. "You're a lovely guy but…"

"You don't have to say it," his chest hummed. "I get it."

He dropped his head down, to rest it against mine. He rocked me gently on the spot, tightening his hold on me. He turned his head inwards, bringing his nose to my hair. He took slow and deep breaths, each one unsettling me more than the last.

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><p>After lunch I decided to head to Pike Place to meet with Kate, leaving the mess for when I came back. I had to get out of the apartment for a while. The fresh air and lengthy chat with Kate helped to clear my mind somewhat. As well as the hundred or so people choosing to spend their Saturday afternoon's rushing around the market.<p>

I waited around for her to finish up her leads and when she was done we grabbed some drinks, resolving to take off for a much needed shopping trip. Thanks to my healthy paycheck from my days work at Maîtrise, I was able to stock up on some new clothes to see me through the rest of winter, some of my favourite toiletries, as well as a surprise gift for Kate, to say thank you for all the help she's given me over the past few months. It wasn't anything too expensive, because I know she would have complained if I had spent all my money on her. It was just a small bottle of her favourite Gucci perfume.

We got back to the apartment before dusk with Kate offering to clear up the mess from mine and José's disaster of a lunch. She suggested that I lock myself in the bathroom and indulge in a long soak in the tub. I've never been good at the whole 'pampering yourself' thing, but I can enjoy a bubble bath like the next person.

I drew myself a Lavender scented bath, dropping the oil under the running water. I lit one of Kate's candles and leaned back into the tub, letting the bubbles encapsulate me. I scrubbed at my chest and arms with the strange, coarse mitt I purchased upon Kate's recommendation. It left me feeling smooth and silky, wiping away all of my rough skin, but unfortunately I couldn't rid José from my mind as easily.

My niggling thoughts were eventually dispelled by my cell phone vibrating on the counter. I forgot to take it out of my jeans pocket earlier so left it on the counter, out of the way of damage. I quickly wiped my hand on the towel hanging on the rail near the end of the tub and reached across for my phone. The counter is directly behind, meaning I can grab most things on there without leaving the serenity of the water.

I was careful, holding my phone firmly in my hand, not wanting to drop it. I opened up the new text message waiting for me.

_I'm looking forward to seeing you on Thursday. C_

My eyes and mouth widened as I read it. I saved his number in my phone last night, after he messaged me. Something about the way he contacted me so unexpectedly suggested that it wouldn't be the last message I would receive from him. And for once I was right.

I studied those words, remembering how he said them to me when I called him about the money. I can hear his voice swirling through my mind. It didn't fill me with the same apprehension it did before. I feel something different now…

My phone buzzed again.

_(P.S. I hope you are not still worrying about the money. Please, just spend it. Treat yourself.)_

I hesitated with my reply, drafting it several times before I bit the bullet and pressed send.

_I'm looking forward to Thursday, too. The club will be open from 11pm. (P.S. You will be pleased to know I have already spent some of the money. And I have treated myself. Thank you again. It was very generous of you!)_

He replied instantly.

_I have my own set of keys – I can come and go whenever I choose. And I am pleased to hear that. I'm glad you have put the money to good use. Hopefully I will hear about your purchases soon? C_

My thumb hovered over the send button for several minutes. I pulled my lower lip between my teeth, feeling a flutter in the pit of my stomach.

_I'm sure you will. You might even get to see some of them. A_

I let out a small squeak of a noise as I watched the message disappear from my screen, moving into the sent folder. I've never felt this way before and, frankly, I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the heat of the bath or the three glasses of wine I had at lunch… or maybe it was just the idea that wherever he is, he was thinking about me before he sent his text.

_He was thinking about me_… My skin prickled at the very thought.

I waited and waited for his reply, growing anxious when it didn't come. I checked my phone several times, to make sure it had actually sent.

I sat up in the tub, staring at my empty inbox.

What if he misunderstands it? I was referring to my clothes, but what if he thinks I'm –

My phone vibrated in my hand. I opened the message with hesitancy.

_I hope I do. Looking forward to Thursday even more now. It can't come quick enough. I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend, Anastasia. C_

I slumped backwards into the water, sending it splashing over the sides and crashing to the tiled floor. My feet wriggled giddily under the water. I bit hard on my lower lip to stop myself from laughing like a lunatic.

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><p>The weekend past in a blur and was followed with an even quicker week.<p>

Thursday night crept up on me before I had chance to blink. I was grateful the week past as quickly as it had, even more grateful for the fact that I could drive myself to work this time. My old, battered VW Beetle has certainly seen better days, but Wanda still has life in her yet. I pulled into the parking lot at the rear of the club, to a space that already had my name printed on a sign – Miss A Steele. I tried not to overthink the fact my spot is sandwiched between Ms E Lincoln and Mr C Grey.

I purposefully arrived an hour earlier than my shift, hoping the extra time would help settle me back into the swing of things. I had to walk around the front of the building, learning that there is a key code needed for the back entrance. I made a mental note to ask Cal for that later in the evening. The doorman ushered me in without a second glance.

"Hi," I greeted Cal, finding him sitting on a stool at the bar. I walked over, stopping in front of him. He didn't look up. He's hunched forward, peering over a stack of paperwork. Realising Cal isn't the type of guy to exchange small talk, I cut straight to the point. "Where would you like me first?"

"Unpacking some of the boxes on the other side of the bar," he pointed to the left, towards the far side of the bar. I lifted onto my toes and nodded, seeing four or five large cardboard boxes piled up. "Spirits, juices and mixers for the weekend. Juices need to go in the refrigerator. You know where the rest goes."

"I do," I nodded and began walking towards the staff room at the back of the club. I propped the door open, coming to a stop at the sight of a dozen more boxes waiting in there. "Do the boxes out here need unpacking as well?"

"No, the fucking elves will sort it out," Cal grunted. "Of course they need unpacking. I'll give you a hand once I've sorted through this. Just do what you can."

I sighed. I removed my coat and bag, leaving them in the staff room, before coming back out to the bar. I decided to tackle the boxes out there first.

I rounded the bar, walking in front of Cal. For the first time since I arrived, I felt him watching me.

"Steele?" he sounded my name slowly, with a curious tone. I turned to face him. One of his brows arched perfectly. He shook his head. "Why is your hair down?"

I instantly pulled my hands to my hair. It's wavy and hanging around my shoulders. Cal's jaw tightened.

"Um, I was told to wear it down." I told him. He scowled back at me.

"And who ordered that?"

"Mr Grey."

Something dark washed over Cal's expression, causing his whole demeanour to shift. His chest rose once with a deep, long breath. He tapped the end of his pen on the bar top as his lips pursed together. He nodded once, dropping his eyes back to his paperwork.

"I can put it up if it's a problem. I don't mind." I said quickly. I lifted my right wrist, bringing attention to the hair tie I always keep there.

"No, there's no problem. Not if that's what Mr Grey ordered." He shook his head. He rolled his shoulders backwards and tilted his chin further down, investing his gaze solely on his work. "Amie and Jo called in sick, so we're understaffed for tonight. We'll all need to up our game."

"Okay," I nodded.

I left Cal to his paperwork and made a start on the first of the boxes. I took the small knife from under the bar and used it to slice through the tape. I managed to empty two of the boxes when the front door swung open. The air changed as soon as Ms Lincoln arrived. It felt colder somehow. I shivered as she walked past me without so much as glancing in my direction. She ignored Cal and I, disappearing into her office and slamming the door shut. Her long black coat barely made it through the gap before the door closed.

Knowing she was here for the night told me I had to work twice as hard and keep my concentration levels high, to save everyone from my clumsiness and mistakes. But my concentration was screwed the minute Christian entered the club.

He came in through the back entrance, from the parking lot. I looked over my shoulder when I heard the door open. He was wearing a light grey suit with a white shirt and a thin black tie. He walked slowly across the length of the club, fixing his jacket buttons together as he moved.

"Good evening," he greeted Cal with a single nod of the head, passing him in one easy motion, his stride unfaltering.

He worked his way to me, his eyes driving a hole into the side of my head. I stole a few seconds to myself before plucking the courage to look him in the eye. Since he last messaged me, I'm ashamed that he has filled my thoughts and my dreams. Well, it's just one dream. Reoccurring. Every night.

_He's sat at the bar when I arrive. There's two glasses in front of him. We're the only people here, the rest of the club empty. I reach him and he smiles, asking me to sit with him. I go to pull out one of the stools but he shakes his head. He asks me to sit on top of the bar. He picks me up and sits me in front of him. He pushes our glasses aside and then his hands move to my_ –

"Good evening, Anastasia." Christian smiles to me, breaking my thoughts in half. I stumbled slightly.

"Good evening," I nodded back, gulping past the hard lump in my throat. His eyes moved to my neck and I wondered if he can see a lump there. His hard gaze lingered on my jugular.

After a few seconds, he smirked.

"It suits you," he pointed to my hair, looking at it for a moment. "Is it naturally wavy?"

I nodded.

He smiled again. It made my knees quiver.

I shook my head. _Shit, what is wrong with me?_

"I won't keep you. You're clearly busy." He tapped the bar top and held my attention for a minute before he turned and walked away. He moved with such ease over to Ms Lincoln's office, his hips and shoulders rolling in sync with each other. It's mesmerising.

He didn't knock before he entered her office. He did, however, pause long enough to call out to Cal.

"Mr Hunter, are you joining us?" Christian asked. I glanced to Cal. _Caleb Hunter_.

"Yes, I am." Cal nodded, his voice sharp with Christian. "We have a lot to discuss."

Cal jumped from his stool and strode to the office, pushing through it, almost knocking Christian out of the way. Christian didn't react to it, though. His face remained still as he entered behind Cal and closed the door once more.

Being the only person in the club, I could hear the three of them talking. I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, but I sensed from the tone of their voices that they weren't having a friendly conversation about the weather. Both males sounded angry, their voices much louder than Ms Lincoln's.

I shouldn't have eavesdropped, I know I shouldn't have. It's rude and you never hear anything good when you eavesdrop. But I couldn't resist the urge. I had to know what they were so angry about. I had the foresight to remove my shoes before leaving my position at the bar – my heels would give away my presence. I tiptoed slowly to the door, creeping closer to it with my back to the wall. I stopped a few inches from the door and lent my ear towards it...

"I thought you would have given up on her by now." Ms Lincoln droned in a steady, monotone voice. She sounded bored of whatever they were talking about.

"I give up on lost causes, not people with eagerness to learn and succeed." Cal informed her. His voice appeared much closer than Ms Lincoln's. I imagined him standing up, near the door. "She's doing okay. I'm keeping an eye on her."

"Have you talked her through everything?" Ms Lincoln asked. There was a silent pause followed by her cackled laughter. "Oh this is going to be interesting, isn't it?"

"I'm keeping an eye on her," Cal repeated himself. "She will be fine. I'll make sure of it. So I'd appreciate it if you'd back the fuck off."

"Excuse me?" Christian's voice appeared coarse and loud. My lungs tightened. I pushed my hand to my mouth, to stop any noise escaping. "Watch your tone." He said the words with a shade to his voice I haven't heard before.

"You need to leave her alone." Cal continued. "I know what you're up to. I won't let you fuck her over."

"You know nothing," Christian dropped his voice to a clenched whisper. I heard a series of leisurely footsteps. "What makes you think I would ever listen to a word you have to say anyway? Who do you think you are?"

"I suggest you back up out of my face," Cal grunted. "You need to leave her alone." He repeated.

"You're protective of her. Why?" Christian's voice became unbalanced for a moment. "Do you like the look of her, is that why you're telling me to back off? Because you want her to yourself?"

"She doesn't know." Cal said calmly. I could almost detect a smile in his tone. "She knows nothing."

"What?"

"You heard me," Cal mumbled. "She's oblivious to all of this. She doesn't have a fucking clue."

I heard a rush of air leave someone's chest.

"Elena?" Christian growled. My knees buckled for a different reason this time. I held onto the wall to keep myself upright. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

She lets out another wicked laugh.

"You need to explain yourself. Now." Christian ordered her. I heard a sharp bang, like a hand striking something wooden.

"Oh come on, Christian. You've seen her. She's a mouse." Ms Lincoln's voice moved closer towards the door, to where I think Christian is hovering. "Did you really think she was like us?"

There was a long, silent pause.

"It's not the end of the world. Don't be so melodramatic," she wavered, stepping away again, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. "You wanted her. You begged me to hire her, so I did. You brought this on yourself. You didn't ask the right questions."

"Don't you dare pin this on me, Elena," Christian snapped at her. "How the fuck could you do this? Shit."

Another, much louder bang startled me. Something was thrown inside the office.

I tore myself away from the door and staggered back to the bar. I heard nothing for several minutes. The blood in my ears was rushing too much to hear anything but my own pulse. I shoved my feet back into my heels and leaned forward against the bar for a moment, trying to piece everything together.

I didn't notice Cal as he returned to his stool at the other end of the bar. I hardly noticed Christian as he came through behind him. I only looked up from my feet when I felt intense, grey eyes watching me from across the room.

His complexion seemed paler than when he arrived. His jaw clenched several times, his skin tight over sharp edges. He watched me for a long while before he pulled his cell phone from his jacket. He shook his head hard and dropped his gaze.

His eyes were cold, sterner and darker than before. He remained grounded to the spot until Ms Lincoln approached him.

"Christian, let's discuss this in private," she kept her voice down. She reached out for his arm.

"You have really fucked up this time," he grunted to her, snatching his arm back. He rushed towards the front door and exited the building in a whirlwind, leaving both me and Ms Lincoln staring after him.

Ms Lincoln revolved slowly on the spot, turning to face me head on. She stared at me with her serpentine features, raking her eyes all over me.

"Haven't you got work to do?" she snapped, jump starting me into action. I reached into the open box beside me and grabbed another carton of juice. "And for god's sake, put your hair up. You look a state."

She slammed her office door shut, pulling on it so hard I half expected it to come clean off its hinges. The sound and vibrations made me flinch. The carton of juice slipped straight out of my hands, crashing to the floor. The dark red contents exploded with contact, spilling out around my feet. I mumbled a quick apology to Cal but he wasn't listening. I don't think he even noticed I dropped the carton.

I pulled on the tie around my wrist and wrapped it twice around my hair as I drew it into a ponytail.

* * *

><p>Cal sent me home early. He saw I was distracted with the strange thoughts and notions wandering through my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about what I heard or the way Christian looked before he left.<p>

I exited through the back door, having got the code from Cal. It was just before 3am when I was sent home. There was hardly anyone in the club anyway, so it was pointless me hanging on any longer.

As I stepped out into the cold January air, I tugged my new winter coat together. It's a deep forest green, made from thick wool. It's fitted, with a belt around the middle, and sits mid-thigh. Kate helped me choose it. She said the darkness and richness of the colour complimented my skin tone. I like the way it fans out around my hips, adding some definition to my figure – or lack of one.

I stumbled quickly to my car, needing to escape the bitter chill swarming me. There's hardly any lighting in the lot, compromising my vision, but I managed to make it to my car unscathed. Although, my beloved Wanda looked very out of place sitting between a sleek sports car and a large SUV type vehicle.

I unlocked my car and threw my bag inside. I decided to keep my coat on. I normally don't like to drive with any sort of jacket on – I don't like to be restricted in any way – but with it being a particularly cold night, I thought better of it. I was about to lower myself down when I froze to the spot.

I heard a click behind me, followed by two footsteps.

I blew out a long breath.

I turned slowly. Ray taught me basic self-defence moves when I was a teenager, but never did I think I would need to use them. I readied myself in case I needed to strike.

"Christian?" I exhaled harshly, seeing him standing a few feet from me, sealing the gap between my car and the SUV.

He didn't react to my voice.

"H-Hi… I thought you left?" I looked him up and down. He's wearing just his shirt now, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"I did," he nodded once.

"I overheard you earlier," I blurted. I spoke before my mind had chance to process the words. "In the office. I know you were talking about me."

He didn't confirm or deny it.

"I don't understand what's going on," I dropped my voice. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Anastasia…" he said my name in a pained sighed. I opened my mouth to speak but he shook his head. He rocked forward on his toes, leaning closer to me. His fingers flexed at his sides. "You haven't done anything wrong. I have."

"I don't –"

His jaw clenched again. "I have overstepped the mark and complicated the boundaries between us. I shouldn't have messaged you the way I did. I accessed your personal details immorally."

"I didn't mind," I shook my head. "Actually, I liked –"

"I can assure you it won't happen again," he continued, ignoring my words. "I have removed your number from my possession. I won't contact you again."

"But –"

"Goodbye, Miss Steele." He uttered quietly, turning back towards the car behind him.

He opened the rear passenger's door. He hesitated before he climbed inside, twisting his head back towards me for a final glance. His expression held a small smile that didn't touch his eyes.

"That's a very nice coat, Miss Steele. The colour looks good on you." He mumbled and then slipped into the car, closing the door immediately.

The SUV reversed out of the space and quickly swung around, speeding off through the lot. I didn't catch a glimpse of the driver, but I recognised the car. It's the same one that followed me home the day of my interview.

Two questions circled my mind during my drive home.

1. What is going on in Maîtrise that I am so oblivious to?

2. Will I ever see Christian again?

I decided that I would get an answer for the first. I don't know when I will get it, but I will.

But I feared I already knew the answer to the latter.


End file.
